Accompanying Song: “The Dog Is Black” by UNKLE (Dial: Molotov Remix)
Syrena
In a wheelchair, I’m wheeled out of the cage. I don’t know what’s happening because my mind is barely there. All I know is that I’ve been drugged … heavily.
I feel numb. When I wiggle my toes, nothing happens, and my fingers don’t respond either. All I can do is wait for my fate.
Will I even get to say goodbye to Ella and Cage?
Before Graham put me in the cage beside these two, I was in a different place. Somewhere upstairs in a glass cage, right next to two other people. But at least I had an actual bed and privacy there.
Not here. Here … I was only a doll put up for sale.
Ella and Cage were my original cellmates, but now they already feel like distant memories.
I’m forced to close and open new chapters in my life in rapid succession, and I can’t keep up.
So much has happened these past few months that I feel as if I’m beginning to lose my mind.
Captured by a monster, then stuffed in a glass prison with two other people, and now, I’m being taken from the compound where I’ve been living for months.
Where will I go?
And more importantly … will I ever get back home again?
A tear manages to leave my eyes and roll down my cheek as Graham sets me down and leaves.
Moments later, I can hear the groaning of two other people right beside me. The girl and the boy who were beside me in the cage just now.
I don’t even know who they are. This is probably the last time we’ll meet.
No one talks. A door creaks. Then Graham pushes us forward, one by one. A man clears his throat. Someone else shuffles around. I wonder how many there are.
Moments like these are when I really hate being blind.
The longer I sit in this chair, the more I begin to feel my arms and legs again, and my lips can definitely move. I don’t talk, though. I don’t want to give Graham incentive to sedate me again.
“You can take the wheelchair with you. It’s on the house,” Graham says.
I wonder who he’s talking to.
Is this person the next one to keep me as a prisoner?
Probably.
Still, it makes me shiver in place.
Suddenly, a hand on my hand makes me freeze.
“Syrena.”
I look up even though I can’t see. His voice centers me, forces me to find him. It’s commanding but scary. Daring and completely in control.
“Graham told me that’s your name. Is it correct?”
I nod slowly.
Something pushes my wheelchair along. I’m assuming it’s him.
“Great. Then let’s go.”
I don’t know what happened to the others, but I assume the other men are taking them with them.
The man pushes me outside, through a corridor, turns right, then another turn, and then we stop. A door squeaks, and a warm glow meets my face. Not soon after, he pushes me outside, and the sun’s rays heat my skin. I bask in it. I open my mouth and let the fresh air enter my lungs. Tears run down my cheeks.
“No need to cry. I’ll take … good care of you,” he says, his voice dark and foreboding.
I don’t think I can trust anything he says.
However, I’m happy to finally be outside the compound again.
So much time has passed since I last smelled the dry air. God, how I’ve missed it.
He pushes me across rocky terrain until we come to a stop, and I hear the beeps of a car.
A door slides open. “Hey.”
It’s a new voice.
“Get her in,” the man who pushed me says.
Suddenly, I’m lifted out of my seat and lifted into the car, landing on a soft cushion. Someone straps me in with a seat belt and closes the door. Another door on my other side opens, and someone sits down beside me.
The other person throws the wheelchair in the trunk and then sits down behind the wheel.
“No need to worry …” It’s him, right beside me, whispering in my ear.
I suck in a breath.
I want to scream, but I can’t. I physically can’t. The only things leaving my throat are a tiny squeal and some rasps. “The drugs will wear off soon.”
I hope so because I really, really want to get out of here.
Now that I’ve had a taste of freedom … it feels too good to be true.
I’m so close. I only have to move my hands to the door and open it.
But the familiar click of the locks sinks my heart to my shoes.
“Let’s go,” the man besides me barks at the one behind the wheel, and the car begins to drive across the rocky terrain.
“Who … who are you?” I ask after a while, as the drugs begin to fade around my lips and throat.
The man beside me hums and puts his hand on mine as it rests in my lap. “Call me Chase… your new owner.”